_By the late Dr. Wolcot. (Peter Pindar.)_


I own I like not Johnson's turgid style,
That gives an inch the importance of a mile;
Casts of manure a wagon-load around
To raise a simple daisy from the ground;
Uplifts the club of Hercules--for what?--
To crush a butterfly or brain a gnat;
Creates a whirlwind from the earth to draw
A goose's feather or exalt a straw;
Sets wheels on wheels in motion--such a clatter!
To force up one poor nipperkin of water;
Bids ocean labour with tremendous roar,
To heave a cockle-shell upon the shore.
Alike in every theme his pompous art,
Heaven's awful thunder, or a rumbling cart!

_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *


GAS LIGHTS.


We have now been so long accustomed to this new light in the streets,
that, like all other terrene goods, we have almost become insensible to
its blessings. Yet let him who desires to know what he owes to chemistry